


hold me, teach me, touch me

by CassandrasDreamworld



Series: explorations and friendships in unlikely places [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Character, Asexual Jaskier | Dandelion, Asexuality Spectrum, Comfort No Hurt, Fluff, Gen, Hair Braiding, Implied past child neglect, Mention of Past Shit Family, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Platonic Cuddling, Sharing a Bed, Slice of Life, sexuality discussions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 11:13:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30088215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassandrasDreamworld/pseuds/CassandrasDreamworld
Summary: “To be clear,” and her tone is neutral, not judging- but asking a genuine question. “Do you want to have sex?”“Uhm, well, not-” He clears his throat. “Not particularly no.”“Why then come to a brothel tolearnabout having sex?” She doesn’t seem puzzled or even surprised. Anja only looks at him, waits for him to answer, although...He gets the sense that the questions are more forhisbenefit than for hers.Yet, it does make him think because, “Doesn’t everyone have sex?”
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion & Original Character(s)
Series: explorations and friendships in unlikely places [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2213880
Comments: 10
Kudos: 51





	hold me, teach me, touch me

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello! I hope you like this fic, I loved writing it and also accidentally fell in love with my own OC even though she was only supposed to be a minor character. oops
> 
> The tags for shit family and child neglect aren't as explicit? but i wanted to tag them just in case. Jaskier in that is like thinking back about his family and he and they just didnt fit together while only the father was actively a real kind of asshole.

The whore standing before him purses her lips and sits down on the bed in one fluid and graceful motion. 

“To make things clear, you want me to show you how to have sex?”

Jaskier nervously twists his hands, and nods. 

He  _ has _ paid quite a large sum to cover a whole night, and any troubles he might accidentally cause. “Yes. I mean no one else would show it to me better than in a brothel, I thought.”

She- he thinks she introduced herself as Anja- let’s the veneer of seduction and flirtation fall away completely at that. He doesn’t know why or what part of his request makes her do so though. She probably has gotten weirder requests in her line of work than  _ that _ .

Anja frowns and seems to assess him, which makes him suddenly hyper-aware of his nervously twisting hands and his general aura that  _ has _ to give away how uncomfortable he actually feels here.

She leans forward, legs crossed and hands resting on the bed’s edge. “To be clear,” and her tone is neutral, not judging- but asking a genuine question. “Do you want to have sex?”

“Uhm, well, not-” He clears his throat. “Not particularly no.”

“Why then come to a brothel to  _ learn _ about having sex?” She doesn’t seem puzzled or even surprised. Anja only looks at him, waits for him to answer, although...

He gets the sense that the questions are more for  _ his _ benefit than for hers.

Yet, it does make him think because, “Doesn’t everyone have sex?” 

It at least  _ feels _ that way. Whenever he got together with his year-mates- and even now as a professor with other professors- sex seems to be, often, the only topic that comes up. Who is a good lay and who isn’t and who you’d  _ want _ to take to bed and scarcely anything else.

Jaskier has never looked at someone before and felt this  _ want _ , this pull other people talk about.

“What does everyone else have to do with  _ you _ and how  _ you _ feel?” She asks, head tilted delicately and arms loosely crossed before her body. “Aren’t you your own person?”

He makes a quiet sound at that because-

Because, she’s right. 

_ All his life _ , Jaskier had always defined himself based on others, how they dress and talk and behave and  _ breathe _ . Until he had enough of the faking and copying. He had wanted to be his own person so badly, is his own person  _ now _ . Or so he had thought.    
  
A person, that is still prone to falling into old patterns, it seems. 

“I am.” Jaskier says and looks down at his hands and then past them, his shoes scuffing the carpet. “I am my own person, you’re right.”

He looks up then and sees her smile, a soft thing, and something lodges in his throat. The smile is real and warm and he feels oddly seen. Not many people genuinely smile at him, or even  _ with _ him. 

Anja stands up, walking towards him and then softly pushing him in the direction of the bed, and he plops down on it gratefully. He is angry with himself, he finds. A bit angry, and confused as well.

Angry because he let himself be influenced again, to do something or try something that isn’t him and that he doesn’t actually want to do. Confused because, well, everyone talks about sex and having sex. No one ever talks about  _ not _ wanting it or even not being interested in it. Another thing seemingly dividing him from others.

He is so preoccupied with his thoughts and beating himself up about them that he doesn’t notice Anja leaving the room and coming back with a glass of water until she presses it into his hands. Jaskier jolts. He had been somewhere else entirely, lost in his thoughts, though when he looks up Anja at least has the decency to try and hide her smile. 

“Thank you.”

She just nods and leaves him alone with his thoughts again, sitting down at the vanity in the corner. 

Jaskier takes slow sips, thinking about himself, who he wants to be, and why he always seemingly has to, or even  _ subconsciously,  _ mimics others. Especially in things he has absolutely no interests in.

It had started early, always trying to emulate his siblings, his tutors, his parents. He just wanted to be good enough and loved and thus had tried to please those around him with the things that  _ they _ loved to do.

He learned how to embroider to make his mother happy even though he hated it. He couldn’t ever sit still and didn’t have the patience, always pricking his fingers until what he was working on had blood stains all over it.

He learned how to fight, or  _ tried  _ to, to show his father that he was a good son. A proper son that could be a good viscount- and was even more devastated when it turned out he had no talent to speak of. His father had looked down on him in disgust, even more so than he already did, and hadn’t spoken to him for over a month.

It wasn’t any better with his siblings, his older sister always making him play with her dolls and hold ‘noble’ tea parties. He liked the dolls and playing with them and dressing up for it, but not with her. The parties always had to go after her head, and she always made him into an evil person or the sleazy noble. He  _ hated  _ it.

He sighs loudly, he can’t do anything about it anymore anyway. It’s in the past and done, especially after he cut off every link with his family. 

Standing up he looks around for Anja and sees her still sitting by the vanity, brushing her hair. 

She doesn’t turn around and only observes him from the mirror, “You’ve paid for the whole night, any idea what you want to do with it?”

“Uhm.” Jaskier starts to fidget, or at least wants to subconsciously, and, forgetting he is still holding the glass, just narrowly saves it from the ground. He blushes and gently sets the glass onto the side of the vanity.

Anja seems to not be mean enough to laugh, but she does give a lopsided smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“Well,” He clears his throat. “I don’t know, I did expect the night to go differently and I am sorry for taking up your time.”

Jaskier doesn’t look at her, cheeks still dusted pink in embarrassment. She does turn around then, and presses a brush into his hands.

“If you’re worried that you’ve taken up my time, you can help me brush my hair until you’ve decided what to do.” She smiles and her eyes sparkle with a teasing glint, surprisingly it helps to ease the knot of anxiety building in his stomach.

He had always calmed down if he could do something with his hands- that didn’t involve embroidery, that is- part of why the lute has always been so perfect for him.

Anja shows him how to brush her hair from the bottom to the top, how to not accidentally hurt her or tug at her hair. It’s calming, soothing even, and he likes that he can do something for another person that feels good for them. Jaskier takes great joy in brushing her hair until it’s nearly silken.

It’s very long and very lovely, the color somehow like spun gold, especially in the candlelight. He had started humming not too long into brushing and the longer he works on Anja’s hair the more snatches of poems and songs flow through his head.  _ Golden spun, like a captured sun- _

Well, they can’t all be winners.

At some point Anja tells him that they’re done and her hair can’t get any better. Jaskier is both proud and a bit disappointed at that, he really liked doing that. 

It seems that she noticed that, too, and watches him with a calculating gaze. “Do you want to learn how to braid hair?”

“Yes!” He replies, maybe a bit  _ too _ enthusiastically, and blushes yet again. “I’d like that, thank you.”

She laughs and waves him off, “I should thank  _ you _ buttercup, since you’re technically paying to help me with my hair.”

“Buttercup?” Jaskier asks before his brain catches up to her words and he laughs.

“I mean, sex is off the table considering I realized I actually  _ don’t  _ want it  _ at all _ and as you said, I  _ did _ pay for the whole night.” 

Anja smiles softly, “Your name, it means Buttercup, doesn’t it? And I will not be the one to complain about this luxury treatment, young man.” 

She laughs again and warmth flutters behind Jaskier ribcage, he loves making people happy. 

“It does- my name, that is.” He grins widely before stepping up behind her again. “Now, if my lady would be amenable to show me how she wishes her hair to be braided?”

Anja laughs again, louder this time, and she does truly look stunning like this. Laughing and smiling suits her, he thinks.

She is a dignified woman, crows feet and a few wrinkles decorating her face. He finds that they suit her, make her look experienced and mature, which makes sense now that he thinks about it. Jaskier  _ had _ asked for one of the most experienced women that work at this brothel.

“Something on my face?” She asks, teasing.

Jaskier turns beet red,  _ again _ , and fumbles over his words. “I just- well I thought that. Uhm. You are very, very pretty.”

He bites his lips and looks away, missing the slightly amused and slightly astonished look that she gives him. 

She lightly touches his wrist, making him turn his head to her. She gives him a soft and warm smile, one that seems to make her glow, and maybe he imagines that there is a light dusting of pink along her cheeks. “Thank you dear, not many outsiders give me genuine compliments anymore.”

“Well more’s the pity on them that they don’t see your beauty.” Jaskier is outraged enough that his brain to mouth filter doesn’t quite catch up yet again, making him blush  _ even harder _ , his face a red so bright it competes with the fine crimson drapery. 

She laughs out loud, a full belly kind of laughter that makes her radiant with joy, her cheek apple red. Jaskier can forgive his non-existent brain if it makes her laugh like this.

After she calms down her eyes are still sparkling and she shows him how to braid her long and lovely hair. She starts him on a simple braid with three strands, doing a few slow examples so he can see what she’s doing.

The first time he fumbles a bit too much, the braid looking crooked and uneven. His second attempt is already much better although it’s still slightly frizzy and not really in the middle. 

He practices on her hair about a dozen times while Anja has taken a journal to hand by his third try, and started to write while Jaskier continues to practice with her hair. 

With each try he carefully untangles her hair and brushes it through untils it's silky smooth before trying again, until he cannot pretend for any longer to practice still. He leaves his latest braid as it is, and he does have to say that he’s satisfied with it. It’s even and neat without too many fly-away hairs. 

“I’m done.” He murmurs, and watches as Anja closes her little book and inspects his handiwork in her mirror. Her hands smooth down the braid as she looks at it from side to side.

Satisfied, she smiles, “Good work lad.” Warmth lacing her voice.

Jaskier ducks his head and blushes from the genuine praise. Like this, his head ducked and slightly turned away from her, she uses the opportunity to ruffle his hair. He startles and nearly stumbles but stays. The warmth he feels at the gestures is a little overwhelming but, frankly, amazing. He wishes he could bottle this feeling and take it out and whenever he would feel sad.

“Come and take a chair from over there.” She points to the other side of the room where a chair is standing next to a cabinet. He nods and retrieves it and sets it down next to her, a bit unsure.

Anja’s eyes soften and she motions for him to sit. “I saw you watching my makeup,” she explains and Jaskier’s cheeks redden once again from being caught out. 

“Come on don’t be like that buttercup,” she winks. “If we don’t have intercourse but you still insist on paying me, then  _ I _ will insist on teaching you what I know.”

“ _ Oh _ .” He murmurs.

She laughs, her eyes crinkling. “Yes, ‘oh’, lad.”

With great enthusiasm- and Jaskier is once again blown away with how stunning she looks, especially talking about something she seems this passionate about- she starts to walk him through all the uses and applications of her makeup. There are some things she doesn’t use personally that some of the other sex workers in the brothel use, and she gives him a quick runthrough of them as well.

Anja knows  _ so much _ he finds, her well of knowledge seemingly never ending, and he’s thoroughly stunned, barely able to keep up. Though she always seems to notice when he lags behind, and patiently recounts it again. 

He’s  _ never _ had a teacher this amazing in his life and he hangs onto her every word with his utmost attention. She clearly seems to enjoy having a captive audience as well, while she had started out very subdued in her body language it gradually changed to her gesturing with her whole body to bring a point across.

When she’s done explaining both the makeup and the ways to put it on- and the  _ tools _ to put it on as well- she goes over to show him some of the less permanent kinds and how she applies them to her face. Seeing the makeup being done is something completely different from only being told about it and she’s so fast and sure in doing it as well, everything turning out perfect.

She offers to put some on him as well but he declines for now, he doesn’t feel very confident yet. He does like the prospect of it and can even imagine him wearing some, like some kohl around his eyes. Something keeps him from taking her offer though, even if he doesn’t yet know what it is.

Instead, he continues to be entranced by her handiwork and her smooth, flawless application, managing an amazing look in as many minutes.

After a while though, even he reaches his limits of staying awake and he feels his eyes drop.

Anja notices too and starts to clean off the makeup and put it away, cleaning up her desk and the tools she used in the process as well. Even here he sees how many times she has to have repeated the motions, it feels like he has barely blinked before everything is clean and at its place again.

She stands up and hushes him to the bed in the room and before he even registers it, he already fiddles with his boots to get them off. He freezes when he’s about to pull off his socks.

When he looks up, looking like a startled hare, she laughs at him but not unkindly. 

  
“Come on, a night is a night and it’s been long since I’ve been able to just sleep at work.” She says to him and motions him to continue undressing. “Go as far as you’re comfortable with buttercup.” 

Jaskier smiles shyly and nods, it’s been long enough that he feels comfortable in Anja’s presence, despite not having actually known her for long. 

He slips out of his doublet and chemise but, after a moment of deliberation, leaves the pants on. Anja undresses herself as well, although she  _ had  _ been rather scarcely clothed from the beginning, so she just leaves her smallclothes and stockings on. He thinks privately that she left them more for  _ his _ comfort than for hers. 

She extinguishes the candles around the room, letting the dark wrap around them, the only light coming from the moon that shines through the window. With a content sigh, Anja slips under the covers and lightly pats the space next to her.

Only a bit hesitant does he sit at the edge of the bed, slowly sliding under the covers himself. It’s warm and the covers are soft and having Anja next to him doesn’t feel weird or uncomfortable like he had feared it would.

She edges forwards and puts an arm around his chest, and he hasn’t been prepared for  _ that _ . It makes a questioning sound leave his throat. Anja doesn’t laugh like he somehow has expected her too, she just sighs and tugs at him to roll on his side, facing her.

With another bit maneuvering she’s in his space, putting her arms around him and encouraging him to do the same to her. 

His face is mushed against her collarbone and the crook of her neck and he has some of her hair in his mouth. It can’t be comfortable on her either, trying to envelop him, especially because he  _ is _ taller than her and he’s also pretty sure he already gave her an accidental bruise with his knee, but she doesn’t mention it.

They lie together like this for a while and it feels  _ so good _ . Jaskier could cry with how safe it makes him feel, how warm everything in him is. The skin on skin contact seems to tingle everywhere and he tries to burrow even further into her while she strokes his hair.

It’s the best feeling he has  _ ever _ experienced.

“Alright?” Anja asks softly and he just nods, scared that if he opens his mouth the only thing leaving would be a sob.

She starts humming a low melody, something that sounds like a lullaby and her voice is untrained, a bit rough and off tune and  _ absolutely  _ perfect. Somehow this is what makes him let out a little hiccuping noise. He feels tears gathering at the corner of his eyes and tries to furiously blink them away. It doesn’t really work and some tears do escape him, wetting Anja’s skin and he feels so fucking  _ weak _ .

He tightens his grip on her, searching for an anchor and he distantly realizes that he has begun shaking. 

Anja doesn’t stop, doesn’t give any indication that it bothers her, and doesn’t mention it. He is so, so grateful for it because he doesn’t know how he’d react to that.

At some point the tears have started flowing freely, not caring about him trying to stop them from coming. It takes a long while before they stop and even longer for his slight shiver to cease as well. 

He knows that her arm has to have fallen asleep and that the position is all around uncomfortable, especially for holding it so long, but she doesn’t make any motions to change it, so he doesn’t either.

It’s like this that he falls asleep.

Safe and happy and with warmth spreading through his whole body.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it <3
> 
> Also- technically I am an artist but I've been kind of lazy and have a bunch of wips looming over me so have a picrew of Anja and how I roughly envision her:


End file.
